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March 3, 2010

John Keats (English, 31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)

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After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains

Jan. 1817.

After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains.
The anxious mouth, relieved from its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May,
The eyelids with the passing coolness play.
Like rose leaves with the drip of summer rains.
And calmest thoughts come round us — as, of leaves
Budding, — fruit ripening in stillness, — autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves, —
Sweet Sappho's cheek, — a sleeping infant's breath, —
The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs, —
A woodland rivulet, — a Poet's death.